


Being a Nurse at Midtown High: School of Science and Technology

by Strength_in_pain



Series: Comforting Peter Parker because he deserves love [24]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Midtown Nurse, Nurses & Nursing, POV Outsider, Peter Parker’s Life Is A Mess, Stomach Ache
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:27:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28740243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strength_in_pain/pseuds/Strength_in_pain
Summary: The school nurse is worried about a student named Peter who keeps showing up in her office with bruises and Peter’s responses do not ease her worries. Too bad he can’t tell her that he’s Spider-Man or things would be a lot easier.ORBasically a crack fic meant to be funny, told from an outsiders pov.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Nurse
Series: Comforting Peter Parker because he deserves love [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1698844
Comments: 16
Kudos: 114





	Being a Nurse at Midtown High: School of Science and Technology

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY FRIEND SpideyLove - I have an instagram called @strength_in_pain. I made it just for this account, and spideylove messaged me and asked for a birthday fic. So I whipped this up as quickly as I could. That being said, it’s probably so awful, I don’t even want to re-read it. But I got the birthday gift out there on your birthday!! So YAY! Also, I tried to make it funny! Hopefully you enjoy.

At exactly 7:15 am, on a rainy Monday morning, Elizabeth Hill entered her office prepared for a long day of work. She liked her job as a school nurse better now that she was in a high school rather than an elementary school. The kids were old enough to hold conversations with her, which kept her company for most of the day, and they didn’t scream the second they saw a needle. Not that high schoolers weren’t scared, some were. Elizabeth could always tell which ones were more squeamish and apprehensive around needles and which ones weren’t. 

Her last job with elementary students was rewarding though, but so was this one. Just being a nurse in general was a rewarding job. 

Hanging her coat on the rack, Elizabeth went to her desk and unpacked her bag. Once she was settled, she began checking the cots and equipment. Like usual, all was well. At approximately 7:30am the bell for homeroom rang and Elizabeth knew her job was officially starting. 

She usually had a few cases in the morning of some kids with headaches or stomach aches. Sometimes they were real, sometimes they were faking it. Her first case of the day was a student that she had seen numerous times during first period. It appears he has a migraine that only occurs during AP calculus. 

“Hello, Eugene.”

“Nurse Hill, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Flash.”

Chuckling lightly, Elizabeth held out her hand for his hall pass. “Sorry dear, my mistake. What seems to be troubling you, Flash.”

“Oh my head.” He placed his hand on the top of his black hair and winced. “Ohhh it hurts.” Hopefully the boy wasn’t planing on joining the theaters because his theatrics were terrible. 

“It just came on all of a sudden? Just like it did yesterday?”

“Yes ma’am. I think it’s a serious case of something bad... like the flu or something. You should probably send me home.”

Nurse Hill nodded her head sympathetically, playing along with his story so far. “Well then, let’s check your temperature shall we? Have a seat.”

Flash sat down in the chair across from Nurse Hill and waited patiently for the thermometer. When turning to him, she noticed he placed his phone down and pretended to once again wince very dramatically. “Ow. It’s so painful.”

Nurse Hill stuck the thermometer under his tongue and waited patiently for it to beep. 

“98.6. Perfect temperature.” 

Flash cursed quietly under his breath. “Freaking YouTube lied to me.”

Elizabeth couldn’t hold back her grin this time, no matter how hard she tried to suppress it. “Oh? How so?”

“It said if I placed a hot compress on my face for a few minutes then I should have a fever - or you know - it should _look_ like I had a fever.”

She appreciated his honesty. 

“Well you can’t believe everything you see on the internet.”

“You can say that again.” He huffed, leaning back into the chair. Elizabeth stood back and studied him, trying to figure out what was on his mind. Despite her nursing license and years of education, she never figured out how to read the human mind. 

Flash was glaring at the ceiling now, arms crossed over his chest. He was a good kid, despite the fights she knew he got in, she still believed he was a good kid. Sure she had seen the bloody noses that Flash gave to other students. She was the one that had to patch up those kids. It angered her, to some extent, that Flash would hit others like that, but whenever Flash was in her office, she knew there was more to him than just a high school bully.

He was clever, witty, and had a dry sense of humor. He was a little on the sarcastic side, but he always had a glint in his eye, as if you were in on the joke, even if the joke was at your expense. Elizabeth had never met another kid with that kind of savvy. 

But whenever he was in the nurses office, he was using his terrible acting skills to try to go home. Ironically, it seemed, the bully was trying to run and hide.

“What’s on your mind, dear.”

Shaking his head quickly, Flash pinched the bridge of his nose. “I guess your going to send me back to class now, huh?”

“Well, yes. Since it appears your headache isn’t bothering you too much and you don’t have a fever.”

He looked up at her with dark eyes. The wheels inside his mind were turning. “I have a migraine. Just because I don’t have a fever doesn’t mean you should turn me away.”

Nurse Hill sighed. “If you would like, I can put you in a dark room, and you can sleep for a bit.”

“Yes!” Flash shouted. “I’d like that. Yup.”

Another sigh. “But I would have to take your phone. Looking at that bright screen will no doubt hurt your eyes and make your headache ten times worse.”

“Oh I’m actually one of those people that get migraines without light sensitivity.”

“Flash,” she said sternly, “That’s my final offer.”

It was his turn to sigh. “Okay fine.” He handed her his cell phone. “Can I lay down now.”

“Flash, what’s really going on? Are you angry with someone in your calculus class? Would you like me to talk to the teacher for you? I can’t help you if I don’t know the problem.”

“My problem is these stupid migraines, Nurse Hill.”

If that’s how he wanted to play it, then that’s how she would have to play it too. “Very well then. Follow me.” 

She led him to a room in the back, and shut the lights off as he laid on the cot. “Get some rest, and let me know when you feel better.”

They both knew he would feel better as soon as the bell rang for second period. 

She went back to her desk and began filling out her report when another student walked inside the office. A nurse’s job was never done. 

After three temperature checks, five daily medicine administrations, and an asthma attack, Nurse Hill was ready for lunch. She was just about to eat her packed ham and cheese sandwich when Mr. Hapgood, from shop class, walked in with a student. 

Elizabeth had never seen this student before, which does happen. Sometimes students are incredibly healthy and don’t need the nurse expect on rare days when they are sick.

“Hello, Mr. Hapgood.” She greeted as warmly as ever. 

“Hello Nurse Hill. Sorry to bother you on your break but I have this student who needs to see you.”

“Oh no, you’re fine. That’s what I’m here for.” She smiled and placed her packed lunch aside. 

“Peter, show Nurse Hill your arm.”

“I really don’t need a nurse. I promise it will heal on it’s own.”

Alarmed, Elizabeth was already out of her seat walking closer. “Did he get hurt in shop class?” She’s seen it plenty of times before, students coming into her office after wood-shop with some nasty cuts. They were sawing through wood one minute and then their own hands the next. Luckily, the school prides itself in safety, and Elizabeth hasn’t come across too many kids that were injured in shop class. But still, the memories of those who have, left her scarred. 

“No, I didn’t get hurt in shop class.” Peter mumbled sheepishly. His voice was soft and light, but held a sharp edge of annoyance. 

“He keeps saying that, but I have no idea how he could have gone through a whole day with a burn like that on his arm.”

“It’s just a little burn,” the boy rasped as Mr. Hapgood rolled up his sleeve. 

A huge red dry looking burn was smudged on his forearm as if he stuck his arm on a scalding hot burner for a few seconds. Thankfully there didn’t seem to be any blisters. 

“Oh honey, that looks bad. Come over to the sink, we need to wash the area with clean water. No soap.”

Mr. Hapgood stood in the background, uncomfortably watching. No doubt, guilt was gnawing in the back of his mind. 

“I’m sorry, Elizabeth. I really don’t know how he got burned. I had my back turned for ten seconds and then this happens.”

Peter scowled, hissing as the water sprayed over his arm. “You were reading your book all class.” The way Peter called out his teacher wasn’t cruel, but rather an innocent explanation of the facts. “And I didn’t get this in class.”

“Then where did you get this terrible burn?” Elizabeth asked, touching his knee, and Peter jumped, quickly trying to cover his wince with a yawn. 

“Are you alright? Are you burned anywhere else?”

“I’m fine.” Peter seemed so genuinely honest that Elizabeth was inclined to believe him. As she began patting his arm dry with a piece of gauze, she asked him again where he got the burn. 

“Oh.” The boy tensed. “Um... uh... at home? I was cooking breakfast and uh... I burnt my arm on the stove. Yeah.” 

Midtown High: School of Science and Technology should pride themselves on having students incapable of lying well. Just like Flash, Peter was a terrible liar. 

Perhaps he was trying to protect his teacher from getting into trouble for not paying attention. The sweet little lamb. Either way, Elizabeth wasn’t going to press for the truth. She was too busy trying to get his arm wrapped in a bandage. 

“Okay honey, keep your arm on this pillow. There you go.” 

Peter was possibly her worst case of the day. The asthma attack was a close second. Maybe reverse those two. Either way, this was certainly one heck of a Monday. 

On Tuesday, Elizabeth was hopeful for a more relaxing day. At exactly 1:00pm Ned Leeds came into her office for his insulin shot. It was a daily routine for him, and Elizabeth expected this. But what she didn’t expect was for Peter to be with him, using Ned as a crutch. 

“What happened?” She asked as he limped over to her. 

“He twisted his ankle.” Ned burst out, eyes wide with panic, as if he thought she wouldn’t believe them. 

“How did he do that?” 

Ned helped Peter sit on one of the cots. 

“Oh uh... he was uh... running.” 

“Yeah.” Peter nodded. “I was running and I tripped.”

“Yeah. He tripped.”

_Well that was vague._

“You were running in P.E.?”

Peter nodded vigorously, but nurse hill knew for a fact that there was never a P.E. class during 7th period. 

“Lay down and put your foot on this pillow.” Peter did as he was told, and stared aimlessly at the ‘preventing the flu’ poster on the wall across from him while Elizabeth gave Ned his insulin shot. 

On Wednesday, Elizabeth did a little digging into Peter Parker’s school record. The boy was a straight A student with exemplary behavior. On paper, he was perfect. No detentions, no absences, no complaints. He did, however, have a large list of tardies. He seemed like he was late almost every other day. But when asking the principal about it, he said Peter was a good student with some money issues and getting to school for him was a difficult task. He lived too far away for a bus, so he had to take a subway. And that was expensive. Sometimes Peter walked the whole way which made him late for school. It still didn’t explain why he often skipped classes as well. 

Elizabeth decided to do a little more digging, and she found out Peter’s emergency contact was his Aunt. Apparently, she was the only living relative he had left. There was a death in the family not too long ago. Something like that could put a lot of strain on a family. 

During fourth period, a girl by the name Michelle Jones walked into her office with her arms wrapped over her stomach. She looked ready to collapse.

“What is it, dear? Stomachache?” 

Michelle nodded fiercely, her face contorting with pain. This was no act. 

“Lay down sweetheart. I’ll get you a heating pack.” 

Michelle curled on her side, groaning. “I ate too much. I think I might be sick.”

Nurse Hill grabbed a trash bin and placed it in front of Michelle while going to retrieve a slice of white bread which has been known to help an upset stomach, especially one that is too full. It should soak up some of the excess fluid. 

“I’m not hungry.” She burped. 

“Just a little bite. I’m going to call your parents. You need to go home and rest, dear.”

Fifth period and Mrs. Ball the sophomore English teacher knocked on her door with a student by her side. 

Elizabeth should have known it would be Peter. He was becoming quite popular with her office these past few days, but today he had a black eye. And suddenly all the pamphlets and seminars about child abuse came popping into her head.

“Want to tell me what happened?” She asked as she handed him an ice pack for his eye. Distracted by the girl in the other room, Peter didn’t hear a word she just said.

“Mr. Parker?”

His eyebrows were furrowed nervously as he watched Michelle cough into the trash bin.

“Peter!”

“Huh?” He snapped his bright eyes into hers.

“What happened to your eye?”

“Oh. It got bruised.”

“I meant _how_ did it get bruised.”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Nope.” He wasn’t taking pleasure in lying to her because his face was heating up, and he was finding it difficult in her direction, which was nice to know, because some students would lie to her face and smile about it.

“You just woke up with a shiner?”

Peter shrugged. “Guess so.”

Child abuse. It had to be a clear case of child abuse.

“Did anyone punch you at school?”

“No, no one at school did anything.”

Just as she suspected, no one at school was responsible. 

“And how are things at home?”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“I heard about your Uncle’s passing.”

Peter’s face fell. He couldn’t look anywhere except at his hands now.

“That must have been really hard.”

“It was,” he fiddled with his thumb, and cracked a few knuckles, before running his sweaty hands over his pants.

“How has your Aunt been?”

“She’s okay.” 

“Would you say her behavior had changed since your uncle died.”

Peter shrugged again, still staring at his lap. “Well yeah, of course it has.”

“Would you say she is more angry?”

“Oh yeah. She’s a lot more angry at the world.”

“Does she take her emotions out on you?” 

“Sometimes.” He sighed, biting his overly chewed lip. This poor boy. 

“I should call child services.” 

Peter’s eyes went wide, as all kids usually do whenever they are finally offered help. It’s not that they don’t want help, but they don’t think anyone can help them. 

“No no no no no, you don’t understand! My Aunt, she’s not - she’s not hurting me. She’s the sweetest person in the world.”

They always try to protect their loved ones, no matter how badly their loved ones hurt them. It’s so sad. 

“How do you explain all the bruises, then?”

“I’m just - really clumsy.”

Classic excuse. 

“Let me guess, you fell down the stairs? Ran into a door?”

Peter’s mouth formed an “o” and he squeezed his eyes shut as if trying to think of a new excuse, the poor thing. 

“It’s okay Peter. The people I can call will help you. Whatever she told you would happen if you came forward and told us the truth, won’t happen. I promise.”

“Nurse Hill, I know this looks bad, but I promise you, my aunt is not abusing me.”

“I’m sure she has told you it’s not abuse, but trust me, Peter. It’s never okay for someone to leave bruises and burns on you.”

“She’s not leaving - oh wow, I can’t believe this is happening. Oh my God. I’m not being abused!” 

“It’s okay. I know this is hard to hear. Let me call someone that can help you.” 

“No!” Peter shriked loud and panicked now. “Please! Please don’t. I’m begging you, don’t call them.”

This poor boy. 

“They won’t let her hurt you anymore.”

“She’s not abusing me. Trust me. I know because - because I know. I know what abuse is. We learn about it in health class, and - and if that was happening I would know.”

So he’s been brainwashed to think this is normal then. 

“Peter -“

“She’s honestly so nice! She let’s me choose the movies we watch, and she takes me out to eat all the time, and we get along like best friends. She’s my best friend and she never hits me, ever. She - she - cares about me.”

“That sounded rehearsed.”

“Are you kidding me?” His voice raised ten octaves, an obvious sign of lying. 

“Just sit back and relax.” She picked up the phone.

“You can’t call them, please. May will be so mad if child services show up at our door -no! Wait!” He extended his hand, “Mad isn’t the right word. I didn’t mean, mad, mad. Like not mad enough to hit me, because she doesn’t do that! But mad like disappointed? I guess. She’ll just wonder what the heck was going on, and she’ll think I said something awful about her and then that will hurt her feelings and this whole thing is so unnecessary because I’m not being abused so yeah...”

“Then tell me the truth about the black eye.”

“Ha,” Peter scratched the back of his neck. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“I - uh - I - I -“

This was just plain sad. The boy was so desperate to create an excuse. 

“Would you believe I was playing football?”

“No.”

“Okay. Baseball.”

Elizabeth ripped the phone off the receiver. 

“I can’t tell you how, but I promise you it’s not May.”

“Let’s let the professionals determine that.”

Peter threw his head back and slumped forward on the cot muttering something under his breath that sounded something like a curse word. 

Four weeks later and Nurse Hill saw Peter in her office again. Another teacher dropped him off. The investigation was closed now, and apparently May Parker was somehow not convicted of any crimes, yet Peter was still covered in the same bruises.

“I told you. I’m just really clumsy.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Have a great day everyone! Feel free to message me on Instagram or talk to me in the comment section! I love chatting with all of you. Also, if you want a long story to read, I have started posting chapter’s to my long AU “To Love What Death Can Touch.” Wkekekksjejwwijejejkdek
> 
> Okay! I’m done freaking out. Have a great week :)


End file.
